Leaves and Flowers
by Telemain's Daughter
Summary: Trapped together after a deal goes bad, Zoe Alleyne and Hoban Washburne must work together to rescue their crew. If they don't kill each other first. Pre-Firefly, a version of how Zoe and Wash first get together.


_A/N: A fluffy pre-Firefly fic I wrote for my sister, who loves Wash and Zoe. Reviews are welcome, but NO SPOILERS, PLEASE._

_As always, I do not own the original show characters. All rights belong to Joss Whedon, Tim Minear, the creators, and FOX._

_Stay shiny!_

Her hair fascinated him. It was like coils of copper and lead wires threaded together, live and dangerous, shining in the sunlight.

Too bad it was the sunlight coming through the tiny window of the prison cell they shared, but the poetry was the same.

Captain Reynolds and Kaylee the engineer were being held somewhere else on the compound. Not close, at least not within shouting distance. They'd tried shouting, had gotten no response. Zoe reckoned that meant they were too far away to hear.

Either that or they'd already been executed.

He wished she hadn't been quite so quick to point that out.

They had landed on Myriad that morning, deciding all to go on the buy because they'd been on the ship for over two weeks. The deal had gone—less than ideally. Their buyers had decided the best merchandise was free merchandise, and why should there be witnesses to such revolutionary economic practices?

Zoe sat next to him on the iron bench, eyes closed, hands resting in her lap. The perfect soldier, calm and cool. Not inwardly panicking, like himself. He'd been ordered to shut up twice already.

He wondered if the curls of her hair were stiff and hard, like wires, or soft to the touch. She looked to be asleep. He reached out one finger, just to brush it over one curl-

"Don't even think about it, Mr. Washburne," she warned, eyes still closed.

"Who said I was thinking about anything? I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly." She opened her eyes and sat up. "What we need to be thinking on is a plan."

"Plans are good." He looked around the tiny cell. One barred door, one barred window, set high in the wall. "Do you have a plan?"

"Not as yet."

"Fantastic. Trapped with the famous Zoe Alleyne, and not even she knows away out."

"Watch yourself, Washburne. I'll get us out."

"Do let me know when you arrive at this brilliant plan."

She was so sure of herself, which was fascinating, and so sure of him, which was aggravating, because she was sure about him for all the wrong reasons. Sure he was a smart mouthed ass, for one. He surely wasn't helping his own case on that point.

She paced the cell.

An hour passed. Or maybe less, it was hard to tell. Probably less. He wasn't sure he could keep quiet for an hour, but the look of concentration on Zoe's face was enough to make him hold his tongue.

_Gai si de,_ she was beautiful.

She stopped, facing the cell door.

"It's a strange thing," she said. "I don't feel too good."

"What?"

She fell to the floor.

Wash had the fleeting thought, She even looks amazing when falling!, before his brain kicked in.

"Zoe? Zoe!"

Her eyes were closed, her body limp.

"Zoe, come on, wake up. Zoe?" He rattled the bars at the door. "Help! We need help in here! Help!"

A guard from the end of the hall sauntered down, frowning at the commotion.

"What's going on?"

"I..I don't know, she just collapsed, she-"

"Hmm. Step aside."

The guard opened the door and stepped in, bending down over Zoe's prone body.

Her eyes snapped open. She kneed him in the groin, swept his legs out from under him, brought him down to the ground in a straddle and punched his lights out. She retrieved his gun (which was actually her gun, which he'd confiscated) and a bunch of keys, and walked out the open cell door.

"Coming, Washburne?"

"I really must object-" he began, following her out.

"Must you?"

He stopped in the dirt hallway. "You couldn't tell me your plan? I mean, yes, it was a brilliant plan, bravo, but...you couldn't even trust me enough to tell me?"

"We had no time to waste, I didn't want to risk being overheard, and I needed your reaction to be believable." She checked the ammo in her Winchester and snapped it shut, turning away.

"Why don't you like me?" he asked quietly, trying to keep all his emotions from leaking into that simple question.

"You bother me," she said, still turned away.

"You've said. How, exactly?"

"You just do."

"What can I do to, to bother you...less? To make you trust me, Zoe?"

She spun around, aimed, and fired over his shoulder. Wash shrank back with a manly shriek. A guard at the end of the hall dropped dead to the floor.

"_Shensheng ge do shi, _woman!"

"Less chat. More rescuing."

She strode away down the corridor, and he had no choice but to scramble up and follow her.

Theirs had been the only occupied cell in this section of the compound. The corridor dead-ended in a wire mesh door that led out to some sort of enclosed yard. Zoe searched through the guard's keys, testing each likely one in the door lock.

"Someone's coming," Wash hissed, scooting up closer to Zoe. She tried keys faster. Heavy boots clomped along behind them. Any second now, another guard would come around the corner and find the guy Zoe had shot, and-

The door unlocked. Wash pushed Zoe in ahead of him, clanging the door shut just as a shout came up from behind them.

The yard was enclosed by a high metal and plastic fence. Parked in the dirt in front of them was a fleet of high-end hovercrafts, silver decks gleaming in the sun.

Zoe set off down the row. "Think you can pilot one of these?"

"Sweetheart, there's not a vessel in the 'verse I don't know how to fly."

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile as she tossed him the keys.

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"I'm really sorry, Cap'n," Kaylee said softly, walking handcuffed beside him behind their burly escort.

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for, Miss Kaylee. I'm the one got you into this mess." Mal scanned his surroundings. They were in an enclosed yard off one of the long dirt hallways inside this smugglers' compound. The fence looked too high to easily scale, and there were four armed guards posted besides.

He wouldn't stop, though. Not until the last second would he stop trying to figure a way out, or at least a way out for Kaylee. Could he disarm those two guards and boost her over the fence from that angle? Or-

"You asked who ate the last of the apples," Kaylee continued, "And I didn't say anything, but it was me. I ate the last one. I'm sorry. I figure since we're going to die, it's best to get it off my chest, confession-like."

"Well, I appreciate you telling me that, Kaylee, but we aren't going to die. Leastaways, you ain't."

"Oh no, it's ok, Cap'n, really. I just wish there was a way to tell my parents-"

"Would the two of ye _shaddup _already back there!" bellowed the guard.

Mal nudged Kaylee and nodded. No sense getting themselves killed before they absolutely had to. If only Zoe were here. She was good at all this logistics stuff. She and Wash had been taken to a different cell. They might already be dead. If they hadn't killed each other first.

The guard parked them in the center of the yard, facing the door they'd just come in by. A short and burly man, the smuggler's leader, sauntered in, squaring off across from them, flanked by two guards, guns drawn.

"Well, well, well. Malcolm Reynolds. Remember me, Mal?"

"Can't say that I do, but that's no reason we can't be friends now. How's about you call off this whole killing us thing, and we all sit down for a drink, friendly-like?"

The man chuckled. "Don't think I'm inclined to do that. You owe me Mal. You stole from me, and turned the Alliance police on my tail just to get 'em off yours."

"Ohhh. Now I remember you."

"Well, I've come to collect my debt. I get your cargo, already done. You tell me where your ship is, and your contact list, and I'll tell the boys here to make this quick."

"While that's a mighty tempting offer, I'm afraid I can't oblige you."

The smuggler gave an exaggerated sigh. "And why's that, then?"

Mal smiled. "We ain't got nothin' so fancy as a contact list."

"Belter? Kill the girl."

"No!"

Mal tried to shove Kaylee behind him as Belter raised his gun. Suddenly, rising from over the fence, a silver hovercraft whirred into view. The guards all trained their guns upon this new arrival. Zoe, standing balanced on the outer deck, picked off three with her rifle, keeping the remaining three and their leader firmly in her sights.

"The next person who moves without permission will be looking for their head," she shouted down.

"Yes! What she said!" Wash stuck his head out above the windscreen. "Miss us, Mal?"

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Wash got them off world as soon as possible. They didn't get their shipment or their money, but they had their lives, and as Captain Mal said, that was a good deal any day.

Wash calibrated the controls to continue on the flight path he'd set, and settled back in the seat. The stars ahead of them spread themselves across the sky in a vast and dizzying array, infinite, beautiful, untouchable.

He figured he'd screwed things up with Zoe pretty badly. Calling her out in the middle of things like that. Perhaps he'd redeemed himself somewhat in her eyes by piloting that hovercraft, but she had avoided him since they'd gotten shipside again with a dedication that was both admirable and hurtful.

Maybe he should find another ship. Maybe-

The familiar tread of the first mate's boots on the bridge made him swing around so fast he almost spun into the console before he caught himself.

Zoe. Unarmed. Hair undone.

Wash reminded himself to breathe. Who was he kidding, even if she wouldn't talk to him, he couldn't leave her.

"Mr. Washburne. I believe I owe you an apology."

Her voice was so cool. He swiveled back to facing the windscreen. "You don't owe me anything, Zoe," he said quietly.

"On the contrary, I owe you both an apology and an explanation." She walked further into the cockpit, half turning his chair with her boot so he was facing her. She left the boot on the seat, so he couldn't swivel away again. "And the way I see it, you're going to accept both of them.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was planning. That was wrong, and could have been dangerous. I should have trusted you."

He said nothing. He stared at her boot.

"You bother me because you're cocky, and your mouth is too smart for the rest of you, and you dress strangely, and I like you."

Wait, what?

"I like you, and I never meant to get attached to a body in that way." She reached out and lifted his chin up, leaning down to kiss him, the curtain of her hair falling around them.

"But now I'm thinking, maybe attached ain't the worst thing in the 'verse to be," she finished.

He brushed one of her curls away from her face. They were soft as silk and strong as iron at the same time.

"And you think I'm just going to accept that?"

"I do."

"Well, who am I to disobey a direct order?" He pushed her leg out from under her where it rested on the seat, catching her and pulling her firmly into his lap. She tossed her hair back and set about showing him exactly how direct her orders could be.

"Also," she said, later, "The mustache. The mustache is going to have to go."

"Yes, dear."


End file.
